“Such a ripe and ruddy age as yours, padre!” said the girl, with affected simplicity.
“Just so, minx,” rejoined he; “such ripeness as portends falling from the tree! Better even that than to be worm-eaten on the stalk; ay, or a wasp's nest within, girl, you understand me.”
“You will never be good friends for half an hour together,” said Jekyl, as he filled their glasses with champagne, and then touching his own to each, drank off a bumper.
“These are from Savoy, these truffles, and have no flavor,” said the padre, pushing away his plate. “Let me taste that lobster, for this is a half-fast to-day.”
“They are like the priests,” said Nina, laughing; “all black without and rotten within!”
“The ball went off admirably last night,” interposed Jekyl, to stop what he foresaw might prove a sharp altercation.
“Yes,” said Nina, languidly. “The dresses were fresher than the wearers. It was the first time for much of the satin, the same could not be said for many of the company.”
“The Balderoni looked well,” said Jekyl.